


Equivalent Exchange: My Life for Yours

by roxasfanfics



Series: Oneshot Collections [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Oneshot collection, Romance, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxasfanfics/pseuds/roxasfanfics
Summary: A collection of oneshots from the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom.DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters presented in these stories, aside from my OCs. Those rights belong exclusively to Hiromu Arakawa.





	1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! Welcome to my oneshot collection for One Piece,  _Love on the High Seas!_ It includes a variety of stories, from passionate romances to tales of friendship, and I hope everyone enjoys reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. If you have migrated here from  _Cuddle Corner,_ thank you for sticking with me; if you are new, welcome and enjoy what I have here! In either case, happy reading!

I do take prompts/pairing and story requests (in fact, I love them, so please feel free to request!). However, there are a couple of guidelines to keep in mind:

  * If a prompt is submitted, I do not guarantee that I will agree to write it. If I feel uncomfortable at the prompt or otherwise feel like I do not possess enough information to adequately complete the prompt, it is my right to politely refuse to take the prompt. If the prompt is from a series that I have not read/seen, it is likely that I will place the prompt on hold until I have done so. If the prompt is from an anime filler arc, I may refuse or require a short explanation of the filler arc to provide me with enough detail to complete the prompt. Please respect my choice as an author to refuse prompts. 
  * Most of the stories I write are male/female, mostly because this is what I am comfortable writing. However, if you wish to suggest a female/female or male/male prompt, please feel free to do so. I don't discriminate against such pairings and will most likely write them if requested, it is just unlikely that I will do so spontaneously. Again, please respect my decision as the author to refuse to write a pairing if I cannot draw appropriate inspiration.
  * Finally, this is  _not_ a place for smut. I respect people who read and/or write it, but I am not one of those people, so please do not request anything that is NSFW.



Below is also a list of my other oneshot collections. Please do stop by if any of them pique your interest! Is there a fandom you love not represented? Please recommend it to me! I love new things to read. 

  * The Bonds that We Hold Dear (Naruto)
  * Tales of Connected Souls (Bleach)
  * Tales from the Four Tribes (Avatar: The Last Airbender and Avatar: The Legend of Korra)
  * Love on the High Seas (One Piece)
  * Love Burning Bright (Blue Exorcist)
  * Tales of the Dawning Sun (Yona of the Dawn)
  * Love on a Fairy's Wing (Fairy Tail)
  * Tales of Resonating Souls (Soul Eater)
  * Tales from Ouran High (Ouran High School Host Club)



 


	2. Index

**Chapter 1:** An Understanding _(Roy/Riza)_

 **Chapter 2:** An Understanding Part II _(Roy/Riza)_

 **Chapter 3:** Laundry Day _(Roy/Riza)_

 **Chapter 4:** In the Line of Fire _(Roy/Riza)_

 **Chapter 5:** The War Left Unfought _(Roy/Riza)_

 **Chapter 6:** Memory _(Edward/Winry)_

 **Chapter 7:** Waiting  _(Edward/Winry)_

 **Chapter 8:** Poetic _(Edward/Roy)_


	3. An Understanding

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang

Riza sat patiently on the hospital bed, gazing at the wall with tired eyes as the nurse wrapped her arm in thick, white bandages. Her shoulder was throbbing with pain, despite the painkillers that they had administered her, like snakes of fire shooting down her arm and back from the gunshot wound that had only been stitched shut a few minutes ago. As the nurse tied off the bandage, Riza glanced down to see that the wound was still leaking blood, staining the pristine whiteness a dark shade of red. Not that she could complain about any of it. It had been her own reckless actions that had earned her yet another scar on her body.

“Now, try not to move too much so that the wound can fully close,” the nurse instructed as she rose straightened up. “For the next week, the bandages should be changed approximately every twelve hours. Would you like for me to explain how to do so, Miss Hawkeye?” She asked politely. Riza shook her head and stood up to grab her uniform jacket and slide her good arm into the sleeve.

“No need. This isn’t my first gunshot wound,” she responded simply, wincing as she eased the other arm into the sleeve. She moved stiffly, but her shoulders still flared with intense pain. _I don’t want to take any more painkillers. It will dull my senses,_ she thought as she carefully buttoned up her jacket. She bowed politely to the slightly stunned nurse, who was clearly not accustomed to dealing with members of the military, before retrieving her things and exiting the room.

“Lieutenant,” came the voice she had been dreading and hoping to hear. She stopped at the door, her eyes sliding to where Roy was leaned against the white walls with his arms crossed and his expression taut. _He’s angry with me,_ she realized. That was to be expected. Roy Mustang was the type of man who would sacrifice himself to ensure his underlings remained out of harm's way. It was a part of him she loved, but also a part of him that made them clash incessantly. She saluted him properly, thankful that it was not _that_ arm that had suffered the injury, and he sighed deeply and straightened up to walk over to her. His eyes fell on her injured shoulder, his expression growing sad.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.

“Not really, sir,” she answered, then swallowed as he suddenly slammed a fist into the door frame beside her head. His expression had turned thunderous, now, and she heard the nurse in the room squeak in alarm. Trying to contain his rage, Roy grabbed her by her good arm and dragged her over to an empty side hallway. “Colonel, sir-" she objected, but he whipped around on her and her words died in her throat.

“I told you to _run away._ What part of that wasn’t clear?” he growled at her. Riza's cheeks flared with anger, but she remained composed as she stood stock-still in front of her superior.

“I wasn’t going to leave you, sir,” she answered firmly.

Earlier that day, Colonel Mustang and his squad had been dispatched to deal with another rogue alchemist. They had been cropping up frequently as of late, leading to many dangerous situations and quite a bit of paperwork. The confrontation had been with a specialist in gun transmutation, and the situation had gotten dicey when they had fallen into an ambush prepared by the perpetrator and his small gang of followers. Having not anticipated a group assault, the colonel had ordered a retreat, but had of course intended to fend off the foes himself. The fool had his pride, and Riza wasn’t going to allow him to die for it. So, she had stayed, and had earned the gunshot wound and their victory. Roy, however, was more concerned about the wound than anything else.

“I had the situation handled,” Roy mumbled grumpily. His anger at her was fading, now that he realized that she was more or less unhurt, but her insubordinance, particularly the kind that ending up with her in harm's way, was a sore spot for him. “I ordered you all to fall back. Why did you stay?”

“I thought you needed some backup, sir,” she answered honestly. _Why doesn’t he understand? It’s my role to protect him,_ she thought in frustration. Roy didn’t take lightly to that, and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. She wanted to yell and scream at him to get it through his thick skull, but she knew that wasn’t her place. _I know he cares about me, but he **has** to understand that I am completely capable of holding my own. _After a minute of stewing, he sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, gazing at her with his intense, dark eyes.

“You have the rest of the day of, Lieutenant. Go home,” he muttered. Riza had no choice but to bow her head in submission. After clapping her lightly on her uninjured shoulder, he walked past her, brushing against her slightly. He paused for a moment. “Lieutenant… Don’t you dare disobey another order.” She felt like a sharp knife slashed through her heart as he said that, and continued to walk away without looking back. She couldn’t help but turn and watch him leave, his cape billowing after him. _Why can’t he understand? I want to protect him,_ she thought miserably.

Riza did as she was bid and returned home to her apartment. Black Hayate picked up on her gloom right away, for when she walked into the door he ran up to her legs and began wagging his tail, whimpering. Smiling slightly, she leaned down to pat him on the head before walking over to the couch and sinking down into the cushions. She leaned back, relaxing as much as she could with her aching shoulder, and Black Hayate hopped up into her lap. Through half-lidded eyes, she stared up at the ceiling while scratching her puppy's head half-heartedly. It was always when she went home alone that her heart ached. _He can be so kind, but sometimes he can be so cruel, too._

The rest of the day passed like a dream as she brooded over the argument. She tried to distract herself by cleaning her gun or reading or playing with Black Hayate, but the damned fool always crept back into her mind. That night, she lay in her bed in her nightdress staring at the ceiling with tears stinging her eyes. _Why? I just want him to understand._

She jolted upright as a knocking sound echoed through the small apartment, and the rapid motion made her gasp as fiery pain bloomed up her arm. She glanced down to see that a red stain was spreading across her bandages. Sighing deeply, she endured the pain to stand up and walk across the apartment to see who was knocking on her door. She unlatched the lock and turned the door, swinging it open. Her eyes widened at the man standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” Roy muttered awkwardly, avoiding her gaze with one hand shoved into his pants pocket and the other clutching a bottle of wine. He was in his civilian clothes.

“Hey,” she stammered back, unsure how to react at the sight of her grumpy superior in her doorstep. He swallowed nervously, fidgeting, before thrusting the bottle into her hands.

“Here. I know you like it. It’s, um… an apology,” he sputtered, and she was shocked to find that his cheeks had grown slightly red. Riza blinked, then chuckled and accepted the gift. _My favorite,_ she thought with a small smile. Roy shoved his other hand in his pocket, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It was amazing how confident he was on the job, but all of that melted away when it was just the two of them on the outside. Gazing down at the bottle and feeling her gloom finally fading away, she just stood there in silence until she heard him cough uncomfortably, “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” she murmured, returning to reality. Blood was dripping down her arm now, the bandage too full of the substance to absorb any more. “I guess I moved it too much.”

“Come here,” Roy sighed and grabbed her hand, shoving past her to pull her into the kitchen, pausing only to kick the door shut behind them. He plopped her down into one of the kitchen chairs and began rifling through her kitchen drawers, searching for the first-aid kit.

“Third drawer on the left,” she called quietly as she set the wine bottle on the table and leaned back in the chair, not sure how to feel about the situation. Roy found what he was looking for and walked back to where she was sitting, grabbing a chair in spinning it around to drop it in front of her. He sat down in front of her and indicated for her begin taking off the bandages.

“They’re wrapped around my chest, you know,” she told him as she shrugged out of the top of her nightgown, letting it fall around her waist. Thankfully, the wrappings covered her entire bust, but that didn’t stop her from feeling mildly embarrassed. If it bothered Roy, he didn’t show it.

“I’m just going to change the ones on your arm,” he responded as he took out a small pair of scissors and began cutting away the soiled bandages. Riza sat patient and still as he went to work, but the feeling of his fingers brushing across her skin made her heart begin to palpitate. Roy remained strangely quiet as he worked, tossing the ruined bandages onto the table. After a minute her entire upper arm and shoulder was exposed, with just a thin thread of bandages holding the wrappings around her bust in place. She prayed for them to hold. Roy stood up to wet a dishrag, then sat back down in front of her to clean the blood off her arm. It was a lot more than she had realized; soon the soft cloth was stained dark red all over. As the stitches of her gunshot wound came into view, the colonel's hand faltered.

“Sir?” She inquired, wondering why he was staring so intently at her injury. She blushed lightly when he suddenly sighed and leaned his forehead against her upper arm, a few inches down from her stitching.

“It’s my fault,” he muttered suddenly. _He's… blaming himself?_ She blinked. It wasn’t unlike him, but he had been so angry with her before. “I yelled at you, but really I was just projecting my own self-loathing. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt.” Riza gazed down at him for a moment, and then her eyes softened and she reached up to gently pat him on the head, softly stroking his black hair. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed the right thing to do.

 _Here, he’s just Roy, and I’m just Riza,_ she reminded herself as she felt a little awkward. Roy didn’t admonish her, just remained still as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I think it’s safe to say that we're both to blame here,” he conceded. “You shouldn’t have tried to shoulder everything on your own, but I shouldn’t have been reckless, either.” At that, Roy turned his head to gaze up at her with sad but hopeful eyes. “It happened, though, and if I had to do it again, I would,” she told him firmly. His lips curled into a smile, and he reached up to take her hand as he sat up straight. He held her hand in his for a moment before letting it drop into her lap.

“I guess that’s fair,” he mused quietly. “You’re so stubborn, Riza.”

“You’re just going to have to learn to live with it, sir,” she smiled warmly. _He does understand. He just wants to do the same for me._ That thought made her heart swell, but she refrained from allowing the emotion to show on her face. Roy, seemingly cheered up, finished cleaning off her arm and wound a fresh set of bandages around her arm. When he finished, she slipped back into her nightgown while Roy cleaned up after himself. “Are you leaving?” She asked abruptly as he made for the door.

“I see no reason to stay,” he replied, and she felt slightly sad. Her eyes slid to the bottle of wine.

“I was just thinking it would be a shame to drink this all by myself, sir,” she said casually. He gazed at her long and hard for a moment, and even she wasn’t sure what was going on inside that head of his. Then he smiled, and walked back over to reclaim his empty chair.

“Yes. What a shame that would be,” he winked at her, and grabbed the bottle of wine by the neck. Riza couldn’t help but let the smile spread over her lips.

 _Roy… Someday I’ll be able to tell you just how I feel about you._ The time hadn’t come yet, though. For now, she was just content to drink the night away with him by her side…

 


	4. An Understanding Part II

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

“Yes. What a shame that would be,” Roy agreed as he smirked at her and grabbed the wine bottle by the neck. Riza felt her lips curl into the tiniest of smiles as she rose from the chair to walk over to one of her cabinet drawers, pulling it open to rifle through the contents in search of a cork remover. She retrieved the small device and tossed it over to the waiting man, who deftly caught it and began working away at the cork while Riza crossed the kitchen to grab two wine glasses from a nearby cabinet. She frowned when she realized she had placed them in the back of the top shelf, a consequence of not drinking wine too terribly often. She sighed under her breath and stood up on her tip-toes, pushing glasses aside as she struggled to reach the pair of glasses in the back of the cabinet. She unconsciously placed the hand of her injured arm onto the counter and out her weight on it, and immediately a spasm of pain wracked her entire side. She dropped down onto the flats of her feet, clenching her teeth as she waited for the fiery pain to subside.

“You really are determined to re-open that wound, aren’t you?” came a small sigh from behind her. She went red as she realized that Roy was standing close behind her, so close in fact that he brushed against her as he reached up above her head to easily retrieve the two wine glasses from the back of the cabinet. He seemed unperturbed at the proximity, however. “Really. You could have just asked for help,” he tutted, the wine glasses clinking in his hand as he shut the cabinet door and glanced down at her. Riza pursed her lips slightly and looked away, mostly so he could not see her blushing.

“I’m not used to having a gunshot wound, you know. I just wasn’t thinking about it,” she huffed and grabbed the wine glasses out of his hand. He raided an eyebrow at her as she pushed past him to return to the table and fill the wine glasses. She glanced over her shoulder, pausing to push her loose blonde hair behind her ear. “Well? Are you going to just stand there?” She frowned at him. He was staring at her funny, but before she could ask, he regained his normal, stoic composure and crossed the small room to join her at the table. Riza eased herself down into the chair and brought the wine glass to her lips, staring thoughtfully out the window at the night sky as she sipped at the alcohol. She couldn’t help but smile when she remembered the fact that Roy bought it especially for her, even keeping in mind what her favorite brand was.

“I wonder how the Elric brothers are doing,” he cut in suddenly, and she turned back to him to find him staring down into the contents of the wine glass, swirling the same liquid around with a slightly sad look.

“They’re tough boys,” Riza remarked as she leaned back into the chair. “I’m sure they’re doing quite well. They’re determined to get their bodies back.” She paused for a moment, cocking her head to the side slightly as a smile came to her lips. “I wonder what they would think about you sitting here worrying about them,” she mused, and he looked up at her in mild irritation.

“I’m not worried,” he snorted, but his defensiveness was a perfect indicator for otherwise. “I know they’re tough. They’re also reckless and attract trouble, so I just-"

“Worry?” She laughed and sipped playfully at the wine. She had caught him in the lie, and he just glared at her for a second before throwing up a hand in defeat and taking a long drink of the wine. She chuckled softly. As much as he hated it, she could read him like a book; he couldn’t get anything past her. Though he would never admit it, especially to Edward Elric, he cared about the young boys far more than a superior should. How could he not? They had come upon them after such a terrible, horrible incident, at their very lowest. _Children should not suffer that way,_ she thought as she gazed thoughtfully at Roy. _Though he was ready to employ them as child soldiers, he knows this._

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Roy asked gruffly as he grabbed the wine bottle to pour himself another glass. Riza flushed pink, mildly embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“I was just thinking, that’s all,” she answered evasively as she finished off her glass. Roy motioned for her to hold it out, and he poured another healthy dose of the alcohol into it. He just sniffed disdainfully at her answer before sipping at the wine again, leaning back on two legs of the chair as he glanced out of the window.

“… You know who was fun to drink with back in the day?” he smiled. “Hughes.”

“Mm. You and him would sit in the tents getting drunk on bourbon and whiskey, and the like,” she recalled with a small nod. “And Armstrong would scold you for it when he caught you, and then you would all get into a squabble and trash half the camp,” she added with a chuckle after Roy’s expression turned from nostalgic to uncomfortable.

“Were we really that rowdy?” he frowned as he scratched the back of his head. Riza looked down into the wine, swishing it a little as images of the old days in the war danced in the dark, reddish-purple depths. _You'd all drink the pain away,_ she thought sadly. _But it was never enough. Those scars won’t ever fade, no matter how much you try to drown them._ She peered up at Roy through her eyelashes. It had been during the war that she had fallen in love with him, and sworn to protect him with her life. _And here we are. I’m injured, and he’s here babysitting me,_ she thought with a slight pang of shame. She hastily downed the rest of the wine and refilled her glass, trying desperately to shut out such negative thoughts. “What are you thinking about now?” Roy asked her abruptly with a smirk, and she blinked at him in confusion. “You were staring at me again. Or this time, was it just my rugged good looks?” he joked.

“Please,” she snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. The wine is going to your head already.” Roy laughed at that, and she couldn’t help but smile. She liked him best when he was like this, without his inhibitions and the propriety of military conversations, free to laugh and smile. He laughed for a minute or two before sighing contentedly and rocking back and forth in the chair, staring out into space as he pondered whatever was on his mind.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he admitted quietly. He ran a hair through his midnight-black hair, and Riza blinked at him as she set the wine glass down on the table. “All I think about is work. Even when I’m at home,” he frowned and tapped his temple sadly. She couldn’t blame him. In their line of work, they say the worst things, the scum of humanity- and the border between them and those kind was blurry. They saw and did the kinds of things that weighed heavily on people's shoulders. Even a proud, capable man like Roy Mustang would feel the pressure at the end of the day, when he was alone with his thoughts.

“Changing the world isn’t an easy thing,” she remarked casually, leaning forward and resting her arm on the table. She was consciously aware that their hands were separated by a few centimeters. “It's a little easier when you have good friends, though,” she added with a small smile. Perhaps the alcohol made her bold, but she reached out and gently enclosed his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Roy looked down at their joined hands, quiet. Thinking she may have made him uncomfortable, she attempted to retreat, but found that he tightened his grip and would not let her pull away. After a few tense seconds, he reluctantly relinquished his hold and allowed her to pull her hand back down to her lap. She regretted it slightly as she felt his warmth fade, and Roy said nothing, only downed the rest of the glass and poured himself another. Together, they had already worked their way through half of the bottle.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he smiled after a second, and she was relieved to see that he looked more at ease now. _I want to help him in any way I can,_ she thought happily.

Suddenly, they both jumped as they heard the rapid skittering of paws on the wooden floor, and they turned toward the entryway just in time to see a very excited Black Hayate running towards then with a rapidly wagging tail and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He bypassed Riza and bee-lined for Roy, jumping up into his lap and licking his face happily. Riza couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the comical scene of the serious man attempting to combat the dog's shower of affections.

“Black Hayate, down,” she commanded after a fit of giggles, and rose to her feet. As she did so, however, she felt the entire world lurch under her feet, and she grabbed onto the chair for support. Suddenly, she felt dizzy, and breathless. _What? I can take much more alcohol than that. What’s wrong with me?_ She thought in slight panic.

“I think that’s enough wine for tonight,” Roy frowned, and ceased trying to be gentle with the dog. He pushed him roughly off of him and stood up quickly as Riza wobbled unsteadily over to the counter, fumbling for a glass to try and get herself some water in the hopes it would sober her up. Roy caught her groping hand, making her stop to look up at him. _He has that worried look on his face again,_ she realized. _Like when he was looking at my wound…_

“I-I don’t get it,” she stammered as she turned around to lean against the counter while Roy fetched her a glass of water.

“You lost a good amount of blood,” he noted as he gently wrapped her hands securely around a cup of water. She brought it to her mouth to find that her hands were shaking violently. “The wine may have brought on a fit of something like anemia,” he hypothesized with a frown. Riza said nothing, only tried to gulp down the water without spilling it all over herself. Black Hayate whined as he paced around her feet and butted her legs with his head. As she drank the water, she felt the dizziness subside slightly, but she suddenly felt exhausted and weak.

“Ah… Thanks… Well, I ruined a fun time,” she mused with a strained smile. In truth, she was quite upset for two reasons; one, she hated to be seen as weak, especially in front of Roy, and two, she didn’t want the night to end quite yet. Her body had other plans, however, and as she tried to straighten up she wobbled precariously and grabbed onto the closest thing to her for support- which happened to be Roy.

He blinked down at her as her hand gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, and she leaned against his broad chest. As soon as she realized what she had done, she hastily retreated to the safety of the counter, trying her best not to turn red. “Sorry,” she mumbled. _Ugh. Look at me. I’m a mess. Is this how a Lieutenant should act?_ She thought in frustration. “I had better get to bed. You can let yourself out, right?” She told him without meeting his gaze, turning her back to him to begin shuffling across the room, leaning against the counter and eventually the kitchen wall to guide her. Black Hayate padded along beside her, offering a steadying bump whenever she stumbled.

Suddenly, her feet gave out from under her, and she found herself being held snugly in Roy's arms. “Wh-what the hell are you doing?” She cried in alarm, attempting to get down.

“Hold still, will you?” he whined down at her, seemingly completely unperturbed as he began carrying the woman across the house. Riza was forced to shut her mouth and resign herself to the awkward situation, and she groaned slightly as she settled into his arms. She was painfully aware of his muscles beneath his shirt. _I am shameless,_ she thought guiltily. Roy said nothing as he bore her to the bedroom, pausing to flip on the light before carrying her over to the bed and gently lowering her onto the mattress. He leaned over her for a second, the sighed deeply. “You don’t have to put on a front, you know. It’s okay to rely on me sometimes,” he added after a moment, not meeting her eyes. _Roy…_ she thought as her heart fluttered slightly. He smiled slightly up at her, that cocky little smile she loved. _Does he know the things he does to me?_ She thought as she stared straight-faced down at him, but her heart was pounding. Their faces were close. Definitely close enough to kiss. She could, if she wanted to; unconsciously, she was leaning forward, all her will bent on him.

Then Black Hayate jumped on the bed and knocked her onto her back.

“Ow… I’m fine. I’m fine!” she groaned as she dog licked her face excessively, and after a minute of her batting lightly at his face, he settled down and curled up at the foot of the bed. Riza didn’t even bother to sit up, just laid there on her back as she regretted that the situation hadn’t come to pass and scolded herself for even attempted it. Roy cleared his throat, and she turned her head to look up at him.

“Well. I’ll let myself out,” he said tersely, and as he turned his back to her, before she could stop herself her hand shot out to grab the hem of his shirt.

“Stay,” she blurted. He looked over his shoulder at her, and expression of surprise on his face. “You said I could rely on you, right?” She continued quietly. “So stay.” _I don’t want to be without you tonight._ Perhaps she was needy for that, or the alcohol had gone straight to her head, but right now she wanted nothing more than his presence beside her. She tightened her grip on the hem of his shirt, and he stared down at her for a moment before turning his face to the door. He then sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stay,” he agreed and clapped his hands together awkwardly. She could see the tenseness in his body disappear, though, as he walked around the side of the bed to flop down on the mattress beside her. “Probably shouldn’t be walking home drunk anyway,” he chuckled as he reached down to scratch Black Hayate’s head. Roy wasn’t even close to being inebriated, she knew that, but still she was grateful for him trying to make her feel less guilty for burdening him with her own weakness. He laced his fingers together and rested them on his stomach as Riza sat up to reach above her head and pull the light switch on the overhead fan. As she laid back down, Roy threw the comforter over her, and she gratefully pulled the blanket around herself while he contented himself with the bedsheet. Black Hayate wriggled his way between them, as if proclaiming himself as a barrier; still, knowing Roy was close enough to reach out and touch made her heart race. “Hey,” he murmured, and she felt him shift onto his side and could feel him staring at her in the dark.

“What?” She asked quietly, not wanting to speak too loud in case her voice shook.

“Promise me you won’t get hurt again,” he murmured. Riza took a small breath, then smiled coyly.

“I can’t promise that, sir,” she responded with a breathy chuckle. “I can’t help it when you get yourself into trouble all the time. It’s like looking after a third Elric,” she teased, but the jokes were only to cover up her trembling hands and racing heart. Roy was silent for a second, and then he huffed and rolled onto his other side.

“Jeez. No need to insult me,” he complained loudly, but she could hear the teasing in his voice. “… Fine then. Then promise me that you'll rely on me more?” he asked her, his voice low. Riza smiled as her eyes drifted closed, and she nodded slowly.

“That I can do, sir,” she answered as his hand slipped through the blankets to hold hers.

_That I can do._

Maybe they weren’t vocal about their feelings, but they knew they were there. She could feel all the words left unspoken as he held her hand in silence, and a deep understanding settled between them as they lay their side by side. _Someday, I’ll tell you, and you’ll tell me. For now, there’s too much to be done,_ she promised him as she felt his breathing settle into a slow and steady rhythm. _One day, when you set wrongs right, and finally achieve your dream._

_I’ll be there, right by your side, until that day. You can rely on me._

_Just like I can rely on you, Roy._

A smile formed on her face as she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of the man beside her.


	5. Laundry Day

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

Riza hummed under her breath quietly as she stood in front of the dryer, carefully folding laundry and placing it in a basket to bring to the bedroom. She smiled slightly as she picked up one of Roy's dress shirts; although it has just been through the wash, it still smelled a little bit like him. She couldn’t help but bring it to her face and breathe in deeply. It smelled like cologne with a hint of smoke. It smelled like her husband. _Roy…_

She jumped as she heard the front door opening, and she hastily withdrew the shirt from her face and acted like she was doing laundry normally. She grew slightly self-conscious as she heard Roy walking around the apartment. Her nose twitched as she continued to fold the laundry, her heart rate quickening as his footsteps drew closer. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as the door slowly eased open, and a black-haired head popped out from behind the door.

“Hi. I’m just doing this last bit of laundry,” she smiled wider as he came strolling into the room. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched her fold another one of his shirts.

“You know, I feel bad that you do the laundry all the time,” he frowned as he pressed a kiss into her neck. Thankfully, Riza was practiced in her military bearing, so she was able to squash the urge to squirm and giggle like a teenage girl. _He makes a mess of me…_ she thought with a small smile as she placed the folded shirt into the basket and closed the dryer. Before she could retrieve the basket, Roy grabbed her by the hips and slowly turned her around. “Where's my welcome home kiss?” he purred, and Riza rolled her eyes as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Riza smiled and angled her head slightly to return the kiss, pressing herself against him for a brief moment.

“You know,” she smirked when she pulled back, glancing down at the pile of dirty clothes on the tiled floor. “I have a few more loads. Why don’t you help me?” she suggested, and Roy's eyebrows crept up his forehead. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, glancing down at the dirty clothes, and Riza was surprised to find a look of hesitation forming on his features. “Do you… _know_ how to do laundry?” she asked slowly, and she was even _more_ surprised to see his cheeks turning pink.

“Of course!” he said indignantly, and Riza smirked slightly. _This is going to be fun,_ she thought as she untangled herself from him and bent down to begin loading the dirty clothes into the washing machine. She was acutely aware of Roy staring at her behind, and she was glad it was her backside to him so he wouldn’t see her blushing. She hastily tossed the last of the clothes into the washing machine before straightening up and closing the door.

“All right. Tell me, what now?” she asked as she put her hands on her hips and turned back to him. His slightly reddened face suddenly turned pale as he stared at the machine like it was some foreign object. He shuffled over, rubbing his hands together.

“You, uh, put detergent in it, obviously,” he laughed nervously. When Riza prompted him to pick one of the four large containers sitting on the washing machine, he made a wheezing sound and stared at the bottles. “Um. Um. Uh,” he sputtered as he reached hesitantly for a bottle, staring out of the corners of his eyes at Riza to try and read her expression. She kept her face still as stone, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more but to laugh. He finally chose one, and jumped when she cleared her throat loudly.

“Honey, that’s bleach. I don’t recommend pouring that in there,” she mused as the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. He blushed darkly and hastily let go of the bottle, grabbing the one next to it. “There you go,” she chuckled, and he pulled the bottle forward and grabbed the little cup attached to the lid. She could hear him muttering under his breath as he measured the detergent and pulled out the slot to pour the viscous liquid into the appropriate chamber. He closed the slot and set the cup down, slightly pleased with himself.

“Great. Now, do you know which setting to put it on?” she smiled as she powered on the washing machine, and the smile vanished from Roy's face instantaneously. He reached up warily and began cycling through the various options, growing increasingly unnerved. He settled on one, and Riza snickered as she peered over his shoulder.

“No, no, we only use that for heavy loads like the bedsheets,” she sighed and began flipping the dial to the right setting. Roy looked doubtfully into the loaded washing machine.

“But that’s a lot of clothes…” he protested meekly as Riza switched to the right setting and started the machine. As the drum began whirling and water poured into the chamber, Riza smiled and patted him reassuringly on that back.

“It can look like that to a rookie,” she mused. Roy bristled, whirling around as she grabbed the full basket of clean clothes and began heading to the bedroom.

“I am not a rookie! I’ve just never worked on _this_ washing machine,” he protested as he stomped after her. Riza smiled as she set the basket down on the edge of the bed and walked to the closet to grab a handful of hangers. She began stringing the clothes onto the hangers, while Roy hovered over her shoulder. “Is it always this much work?” he inquired as he grabbed a hanger and placed one of his shirts onto it. He left it unbuttoned, so he frowned when he lifted it up and it slid right off.

“Yes, it is,” she laughed slightly and reached over to place the shirt back on the hanger, buttoning the top button so it would hold. Roy held it up and nodded in slight appreciation. After they finished hanging the clothes, with Riza making slight modifications to Roy's work, she returned the empty basket to the laundry room.

“So, what now?” he inquired.

“Now, we wait,” she smiled at him, and she raised an eyebrow as he smiled alluringly and wound his arms around her waist.

“I’ve got an idea or two about what we can do to pass the time…” he murmured and pulled her up against him, and in response she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and curled her fingers into the ends of his midnight-black hair.

“Oh? That so? Enlighten me,” she answered, and he smiled before leaning down to press his lips against her own. Riza’s eyes drifted closed, and she sighed lightly as Roy ran his hands up and down her sides while kissing her deeper. “I should have you help me do laundry more often,” she joked as he pulled away to plant kisses down the nape of her neck, and she felt him chuckling as she wrapped her arms around his broad, strong back.

After their hour was up, Roy and Riza returned to the laundry room, and she opened the dryer to begin folding the clothes. Roy watched her for a minute, then blinked and picked up a shirt to begin clumsily folding it. He frowned deeply and presented the finished product to Riza, who just smiled and reached up to pat him on the head. “It’s a good thing that you’re pretty,” she chuckled teasingly.

“Come on. I’m trying here. I am your superior and you should respect me! Not tease me!” he pouted at her, and she smiled before laying the shirt out on top of the dryer and showing him how to properly fold it. He watched her intently, then tried to replicate it with another shirt. “Better?” he asked hopefully.

“Better,” she smiled and set the shirt in the basket. Roy bent down to get another shirt, then stared thoughtfully at the pile of clean clothes in the dryer. She cried out in alarm as he abruptly grabbed the clothes and flung then over her, and the next thing she knew the world was whirling around her. She landed on something soft and the warm, fluffy clothes rained down around her. As the clothes settled, she looked down to see that Roy had pulled her down to the ground and she was laying on top of him. “What are you doing?” she blinked down at him.

“Enjoying the laundry,” he remarked with a snicker, blowing a dress sock off his face. It _was_ nice and warm, between Roy's body heat and the warm clothes scattered over them.

“Now I have to clean them all over again,” she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him. Roy smiled and continued holding her hips, lightly running his index fingers up and down the small of her back.

“That’s okay. I enjoy doing laundry with you,” he smiled up at her.

“Really? Even though you’re terrible at it?” she laughed, and he pouted up at her bitterly. “Don’t worry. Practice makes perfect,” she consoled him teasingly and gave him a peck on the nose.

“So you’re saying we should do this more often?” he smiled.

“Definitely,” she laughed, and then he put a hand on the back of her head to pull her into a kiss. _Definitely. I want to do all my laundry with you, Roy… Now and forever._


	6. In the Line of Fire

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

Riza narrowed her eyes slightly as she peered around the corner of the dilapidated hallway, her keen eyes scanning the dank area for any sign of movement. She raised her pistol, her finger resting on the trigger, as she edged forward. She whipped back behind the safety of the wall as the hall filled with flashing lights and frantic popping, for a rain of bullets ripped through the air. The projectiles embedded themselves into the wall a few feet away from her, a few of the crushed bullets clattering to the ground and rolling across the cracked concrete floor. The air grew silent after a few minutes of incessant fire, and Riza wrinkled her nose at the acrid scent of gunpowder.

 _“Have you cleared the second floor yet, Lieutenant?”_ Roy's voice buzzed over the transmitter in her ear. She raised a hand to press the button, peering around the edge of the corner once more.

“No, sir,” she answered with a small frown. “They’ve holed themselves up in the rooms.” Her eyes slowly trailed across the hallway, waiting for the enemy to venture back out into the open to take another shot at the military officer. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she raised her pistol as one of the enemy crept out of one of the rooms, slowly edging his way down the hall towards the woman. Riza retreated back around the corner, listening to the sound of the man's timid footsteps slowly drawing closer. As she saw the edge of his boot poking just past the edge of the wall, Riza's arm snapped out to punch him in the nose. His head shot back with a sickening crack, and as he reeled she grabbed his gun with two hands, a semi-automatic rifle, and jerked it upward so the butt of the gun collided with his chin. He stumbled back again, but recovered faster this time and gripped the weapon tightly; Riza whirled it in his hand so that when he squeezed the trigger the bullets sprayed across the ground and ripped open his booted foot. He wailed in agony, allowing Riza to kick him in the middle and wrench the gun out of his hands. As he made for the weapon, she elbowed him in the face, and this time his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over.

“Get her!” came a gruff cry from the end of the hallway, and Riza snatched the unconscious man by the collar of his shirt and held him up as the air came alive with rapid gunfire once more. She held him up as a shield as she quickly ran along the edge of the hallway, slinging the rifle over her back and shooting over the dead man's shoulder at the black lumps she could distinguish between the blinding flashes of light. She ducked into an empty room and threw the bullet-riddled body aside, loading another magazine into her pistol and waiting for the assault to die down.

 _“Lieutenant! What’s your status?”_ Roy buzzed in her ear again. There were several sets of footsteps approaching rapidly now; it seemed the enemy wanted to overwhelm her with numbers.

“I’m working on it!” she grunted and slung the rifle into her hands, quickly dipping out of the room to release a spray of bullets into the hall. Alarmed screams and bodies slumping to the floor followed, but a few escaped her attack by slipping into the rooms a few doors down. Once again, silence descended as the two parties waited for the other to strike, and time ticked slowly by as Riza stood in the door frame with her hawk-like eyes narrowed and her expression stony. _Come on out,_ she thought.

She gasped suddenly as the sound of shuffling feet came from the other end of the hall, and she slipped back into the room just in time before a stream of bullets ripped into the door frame. She slammed the door shut and flipped the lock, jamming a chair under the doorknob for good measure before backing away from the door. “I’ve been blocked in. They called for backup,” she alerted her superior as she wedged herself in the corner, as far away as possible from the door. She jumped slightly as it suddenly lurched violently, the doorknob shaking violently as one of the men threw himself at it in an attempt to bust it down.

 _“Lieutenant! Stay put. We're coming to get you,”_ Roy cried in her ear, but she was already crossing the room to head to the window, banging on it with the butt of the rifle. Cracks rippled across the glass as she hit it with all her might, and after a few good hits, it shattered and glass clattered to the ground, crunching underneath her boots as she punched as many of the sharp bits clinging to the window frame and turned to sit down on the sill.

“Can't do that, sir. I’m heading to the third floor,” she responded calmly as she pulled herself up onto the ledge above her, standing on the sill as she began banging on the window above her with the end of her gun. She ducked her head as glass rained down on her, and she slung the rifle around her back to grip the windowsill with both hands to begin hauling herself up.

 _“Lieutenant! That floor hasn’t been cleared yet! I said stay put!”_ Roy yelled at her, and as she pulled herself up into the window the door to the room gave way and she heard the enemy rogues’ feet pounding all over the floor as they searched for the disappeared woman. Riza dragged herself into the upstairs room just as one of them ran over to the window and ducked out, shooting at her feet while she rolled onto the floor, pistol in hand. She didn’t have much time as all the noise had likely attracted attention, and she quickly ran to a door adjoining the room she was in and the next as the door burst open and a man with another rifle stepped in and began shooting. She cried out as a bullet ripped through her calf, but she managed to stumble to the door and swing it closed just as another stream of bullets ripped through the air. She fell roughly onto her back after locking it, and she groaned as she crawled backwards to the opposite wall, leaving a thick trail of blood behind her. She grunted as she propped herself up against the wall, holding up her rifle as she watched the door lurch violently.

“Come and get me,” she growled as she held it up, her finger barely squeezing the trigger. The door jerked once, then twice, then another time, and she watched with hazy vision as the wood began to splinter underneath the force.

Then silence. The only sound was her own ragged breath tainting the air, until the frightened screams pierced joined in, and Riza narrowed her eyes as a brilliant red hue glowed in the small gap between the door and the floor. The doorknob jiggled, then turned red with intense heat, until the metal could take no more and melted to a puddle onto the concrete floor. The door slowly creaked open, and Riza smiled and lowered her gun as her superior officer stepped into the room, smirking without a scratch on him.

“Well. You look pretty good, considering you just got shot,” Roy commented casually as he looked down at the blood smears stretching between the door and her, but despite his cool demeanor she could sense the hard edge of his tone and see the crease of worry in his forehead. He crossed the room quickly to crouch down in front of her, grabbing the edge of his cloak to rip a large section of the fabric free. She gritted her teeth as he propped up her leg slightly to wrap the strip of fabric around her upper leg, tying it tightly to stop the flow of blood from her gunshot wound. He smiled slightly as Riza glanced at the door. “Don’t worry. I have Havoc keeping watch. We need to get you out of here,” he grunted as he slipped her arm around his shoulder and dragged her to her feet.

“I can walk on my own, sir,” she protested, but then hissed in pain as she tried to place her weight on her leg. The colonel ignored her objection and began walking her out of the room, where Havoc was leaning in the door frame with a rifle taking shots at whatever fool poked his head out of the room they were hiding in. Wiggling the cigarette in his mouth, he waved lightly at Riza and the colonel as she limped up beside him.

“Well, this mission is going _great_. I knew clearing out insurgents was going to be a cake walk,” he said cheerfully.

“Shut up, Havoc,” Roy grumbled and propped Riza against the wall, stepping briskly out into the hall. Before any of the enemy couldn’t react, he released a stream of fire down the hall, and the sound of screams mingled with the roaring flames. “There. That should buy us some time,” he huffed as he watched the burning hallway, ducking back into the room to once again support Riza and begin walking her slowly towards the stairs. Havoc walked backwards behind them, holding the gun steady as he watched for any sign of the enemy.

“Really, I’m fine,” Riza grunted as she shuffled along beside her superior. Really, she knew she wasn’t, but he had one arm around her middle and was pressing her close as he half-walked, half-dragged her down the hallway, and the feeling of his warmth made a blush rise to her cheeks even despite the dire situation. _Even in the midst of battle this man drives me insane,_ she thought, hoping she couldn’t hear her heart beating furiously.

“Don’t try and act tough,” he sighed as he kicked open the door to the stairs, easing her down onto the first step as Havoc held open the door. She pursed her lips, but then inhaled sharply as she put her weight down on his injured leg for a moment, and intense pain shot through her nerves in an instant and made her entire body shudder as she tried not to scream. Despite Roy tying off the wound, blood was still dripping out of her, spattering onto the steps as they inched their way down. _I’m hurt worse than I thought,_ she realized as she clenched her teeth.

Suddenly, the door to the stairs crashed open with a _bang!,_ and Havoc unleashed a stream of bullets and caught the perpetrators off-guard for a moment.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” the blonde-haired man cried, then cursed as his cigarette fell out of his mouth. Riza cried out in alarm as she felt her legs suddenly give way, and she blushed fiercely as she realized that Roy had scooped her into his arms and was carrying her down the steps as Havoc shot repeatedly at the enemy behind them. She ducked her head as a bullet whizzed by, clipping a few strands of her hair as it went. Resigned to the situation, all she could do was throw her arms around her neck and hang on tightly, her heart pounding the entire time.

Somehow, they made it down to the first floor alive, and as they crashed through the door the insurgents behind them were met with the barrels of fifteen guns. It seemed the first floor had been cleared successfully and the military had made base camp there, luckily for the harried colonel and his two subordinates. The few surviving renegades that had chased them down the stairs opted to surrender, and as they dropped to their knees and were taken into custody, Roy carried Riza over to the medical tent and gently set her down onto a wooden box while a nurse came to fuss over her.

“It’s a clean wound, thankfully,” the woman smiled up at her as she assessed the damage. “Thanks to the colonel cutting off your blood flow, you didn’t lose too much blood, so you'll be fine. I’ll go arrange for transport, so we can get you to a hospital,” she chirped before vanishing into the tent to start a radio call. Riza sat calmly on the box while Roy bent down in front of her, staring at her bleeding leg.

“It’s nothing, sir,” she told him firmly.

“’Nothing’ my ass,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have sent you out there alone,” he sighed and ran his hand through his dark black hair. He narrowed his eyes sadly, reaching out with a gloved hand to gently touch her calf. A shudder ran through Rina’s entire body, and her heart rate skyrocketed. She was grateful that the glow from the lantern nearby eclipsed her raging blush, and looked away in mild embarrassment.

“Roy, we said we wouldn’t do stuff like this while we're on the job-" she hissed under her breath, and then she gasped when his finger caught her underneath the chin and turned her face. She blinked as his lips suddenly covered her own, but she found that she could not pull back; instead, her eyes drifted closed and she leaned into the kiss, her hand reaching up to gently cup Roy's cheek. They kissed for a moment, and then he pulled back, but only mere inches.

“I don’t care about that. You’re hurt,” he murmured.

“That nurse said I would be fine,” she sighed with a small smile. Part of her loved how much he worried about her, but the other part of her clung stubbornly to pride and hating to be seen as weak. Roy pursed his lips at her, unconvinced. Riza smiled and took his hands in her own, gently rubbing the tops with her thumbs. “Really, Roy, I’m fine. You saved my life.”

“Well, I guess it’s fair, considering you saved mine,” he murmured softly and brought one of her hands to his mouth to kiss her palm. Her heartbeat shot up again, and her cheeks turned pink. _Ugh, look at him, he thinks he’s so smooth,_ she thought as he smirked proudly up at her, and she rolled her eyes and pulled her hands back as the nurse came walking out of the tent.

“The transport is on its way. I’ll start preparatory treatment here. Colonel, I’ll take it from here,” the nurse said socially, and Roy slowly rose to his feet and cleared his throat as Riza stood up unsteadily to hobble into the tent.

“Take good care of her,” he called as he uncomfortably watched Riza duck into the tent. She glanced over her shoulder with a small smile.

“Shouldn’t you be clearing out the rest of those insurgents, Colonel?” she smirked at him, and now it was _his_ cheeks that turned a bright shade of pink. He scowled slightly at her as she chuckled and saluted him. He gave her one worried glance before whipping around to walk stiffly to return to battle, and Riza's smile slowly faded as she watched him go. _Be safe,_ she almost called after him, but she knew that the words were unneeded. He would always come back to her.

Just like she would always return safely to him.

“Let’s get that bullet wound taken care of, miss, before it turns into a problem,” the nurse chirped from inside the tent. Riza hesitated, watching Roy turn the corner, and then obediently entered the tent so the nurse could treat her. As she sat down on the cot and allowed the nurse to begin inspecting her wound, she smiled as she heard Roy barking orders.

He would always come back to her, and always be there in her time of need. _And I’ll do the same,_ she thought with a small smile, leaning back slightly as the nurse began to work on her bullet wound.

_I’ll always do the same._


	7. The War Left Unfought

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

Prompt taken from the Tumblr blog hellsdemonictrinity! Please check them out!

Roy looked up at the sky as cannonballs sailed overhead with shrill screams, ripping through the smoke-choked air as they plummeted slowly to the ground to crash violently into the simply constructed wood-and-stone buildings a few hundred yards from where he was standing. The structures, no more than mere hovels, splintered and erupted upon impact, sending shards of sharp wood and stone careening in all directions; the small, deadly projectiles ripped through the wailing civilians as they fled for their lives, their screams of pure terror and agony blending in with the angry wails of the iron balls that fell like meteors to the earth. Every once in a while, the smoke would be forced away by the high-speed giant bullets to reveal a flaming blue sky above, but it was soon overtaken again by the thick blanket of ash and smoke and dust that rose from the battlefield. Roy lived for that glimpse of blue among the ugly hues of brown and black and grey, because it proved to him that even in all this destruction and death there was still something beautiful left.

Something that he could hold on to.

Slowly, the booming of the cannons and their shrieking spawn fell silent, and all he could hear were the moans of the dying and the sobbing of those still trying to flee drifting on the wind, hot with the heat of the flames flickering amongst the carnage stretching out before him. Red and orange danced amongst the muted browns and grays, eagerly spreading across any surface that would satisfy its endlessly hungry maw. Soon, the horizon glowed with the flickering flames, crackling with such fierce intensity that the screams were completely eclipsed- but not to Roy. He could still hear them, the agonized wails of men and women who lay amongst the rubble, the terrified shrieks of mothers clinging to their children and trying to shield them from harm, the hurried wail of a child who had suffered the bitter, bitter taste of war… All of them echoed in Roy's head, and he could not block them out, no matter how hard he tried…

After the fires had died out, it was obvious from the complete and utter destruction that Roy's alchemical powers would be unnecessary overkill. Still, there was the matter of eliminating any unlikely survivors, and so he and his troop of soldiers approached the blackened shell of the small village, their noses crinkling as their nostrils burned with the acrid odor of ash and charred flesh. A few of them were still green, and as they stumbled across the blackened bodies they stumbled off behind one of the collapsed hovels to retch. Roy almost envied them; they, at least, had some shred of humanity left. Roy had none. Stoic, unfeeling, hard as stone, he walked amongst the ruin he had helped make. Occasionally the air would ring with a gunshot as a survivor was discovered. The more bloodthirsty fellows would have at them with their bayonets, and there would be a shrill squeal followed by acute silence only filled with the lingering crackle of small flames and the crunch of their boots across the soot-covered, rubble-littered path.

Roy whipped around as he heard the sharp sliding of feet down a roof, his hand raised and fingers poised to snap, but he tensed when he realized it was not an enemy who had appeared so suddenly in his vicinity. Riza Hawkeye landed lightly on the sandy ground as she hopped off a large section of a collapsed building, perfectly positioned to act as a slope. Her sniper rifle was slung over her shoulder, and her uniform was smeared with dirt and soot, as was her face. Somehow, that did not make her less pretty. She saluted him as he lowered his arm, and then approached with an equally calm, set expression.

“I’ve come to assist in the clearing of this area,” she informed him before glancing around the blackened shell that had once been a thriving, bustling residential area. Now it was a haunt for ghosts, only inhabited by the damned beings that they were. “It seems the cannons did their work,” she remarked casually. _No. The men did their work. Cannons don't destroy; people do,_ he thought to himself. Abruptly, Riza narrowed her eyes and she slowly reached to pull her gun around, indicating that she saw movement. Roy narrowed his eyes, flicking his gaze across the ruined landscape, until he spotted a pair of frightened red eyes staring back at him from the darkness of a half-collapsed hovel. Then, they vanished, and out from behind the rubble sprang the form a little Ishvalan boy as he made a mad dash to escape. Neither Roy nor Riza moved, perhaps secretly hoping that their soldiers had been oblivious.

Of course, they had not.

Several shots rang out in the air. One bullet bounced off a brick, chipping the stone. Another shot into the dust at the boy’s feet, causing him to pause and try to zig-zag away. However, the third caught him in the leg, and he starting screaming in agony, and Riza sighed under her breath as she raised her gun and peered into the scope, and all the while he was just crying, and screaming, and _screaming…_

Roy awoke with a start, clutching his bedsheets tightly as he shot into a sitting position, panting heavily and drenched in a cold sweat. The room around him was dark, but a little moonlight streamed in through the window, half-open due to the summer heat. The curtains fluttered slightly in the night breeze, and it made Roy feel cold as it brushed over his sweat-slicked skin. Slowly, the heart hammering in his chest quieted, and his wide eyes slowly closed as he released a heavy exhale of both relief and exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, convinced he had more wrinkles than before he had went to bed, before lightly pulling the sheets off of him and sliding out of the bed. Barefoot and bare-chested, he walked across the carpeted floor and into the bathroom, turning on the tap and leaning down to splash cold water onto his face to chase the lingering dream away. After he turned off the water, he leaned over the sink, his knuckles white as he clenched the bathroom counter with unnecessary strength. In the back of his mind, the screaming echoed, unrelenting, growing louder with every passing second.

“Which one was it this time?” came a soft voice from the bedroom, and Roy lifted his head wearily. In the gloom, his wife was sitting up in bed, her golden hair flowing around her face and over her shoulders as she gazed at him levelly. She was wearing that same stoic, set look as she had in the dream, but yet it was softer; there was a hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth, and in her eyes was not the hardness of a soldier, but all the love that a woman could give. “Talk to me. I’m here for you,” she continued as her expression softened into a smile. With another small sigh, Roy straightened up, looking at himself in the mirror and noting the bags that had appeared under his eyes.

“The little boy,” he answered quietly. “After we destroyed the village by cannon, we walked the ruins, and you joined us there. He tried to run away,” he clarified after a moment of trying to suppressing the screams suddenly silenced by a single shot. “You gave him mercy.”

“Oh, yes. That one,” she recalled bluntly. Though it would appear that Roy was the calm, collected leader, when the uniform came off and the thoughts ran loose, his mind was in shambles. Riza had fought that battle and won; for Roy, it was the war left unfought. Awakening in the middle of the night with imaginary blood on his hands and screams in his head was not an uncommon occurrence. As he continued to gaze miserably into the smooth glass, he heard Riza slide out of the bed and come walking over to join him in the bathroom. She was wearing on of his button-up shirts; he wasn't sure why, but she liked to do so often. Perhaps it comforted her in some way. As well as he knew her and as much as he loved her, Roy still sometimes couldn't guess what she was thinking nor explain her actions. “That one was hard for you. I remember,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and peered around his muscular arm, still wearing that small smile.

“How do you do it, Riza?” he sighed deeply and closed his eyes, leaning his head back as the phantasms of those he had slain flashed in the dark. “I see them and hear them, so clearly… I was following orders, plain and simple, and even now I’m working so hard to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. So why do they still haunt me?”

“They haunt me, too,” she answered simply, and that shocked him enough to open his eyes and glance down at her. She was staring into the mirror, and her soft face looked suddenly so tired, with the glassy eyes of someone haunted as he was. He didn't understand. Riza did not wake up in the dead of night as ghosts of years past plagued her dreams; Riza, the one who had followed him into Hell and back, who had been there for him in all his times of need, the one he had always counted on because he knew that she was more put together than he could ever be. Was everything he had ever thought a lie? “I dream, sometimes, or when my mind wanders I think back to those times, and the things I did frighten me,” she admitted quietly, and then looked up at him with a smile. “But I remember that I was not alone, nor did I ever accept those atrocious things we did. I kept fighting, with you, and the Elric brothers, and Alex, and everyone. The people I killed will never leave me, Roy- but I no longer feel guilty. I did what I had to do then, and then I did what I had to do to make up for it. You did even more- you tore down the government that made that possible and made amends for the horrible things that happened, shouldering that burden by yourself. They will never leave you, but the blood is no longer on your hands,” she explained calmly.

Roy stared down at her, struck deeply. He had tried to tell himself that many times, but somehow it had never stuck; it had always come off as wishful thinking, or trying to run away from what he had done. Yet, hearing those words from _her_ mouth seemed so much more true. He glanced down at his hands, which had borne so much blood over the years, and yet now as he stared down at them they seemed more pure than they had ever been. _My war was won. I’ve been fighting a needless battle,_ he realized.

“Riza…” he murmured and looked back at her, but the words of gratitude simply would not come. She knew what he meant, though. She stood up on her tip-toes to lightly press her mouth to hers, and she let the kiss linger for a moment before pulling back and turning around to saunter back into the bedroom.

“Come on. I know how much you like your sleep. You'd better get back in here, because _I’m_ the one who has to deal with you in the morning,” she sighed as she clambered back into bed and curled up beneath the sheets. Roy blinked at her, then chuckled and followed after her, climbing into the bed and laying down on his back with a small sigh. As Riza pressed close against him, he lifted an arm to slide it beneath her head, holding her close to him. Soon her breathing settled into a soft, steady rhythm, and Roy listened to it for a while, watching her sleep. She always seemed more innocent when she was sleeping, not like the confident, powerful woman she was by day. That thought made him smirk, as he knew Riza would never forgive him for thinking something like that.

“You really are something,” he sighed and leaned down to press a kiss into her golden hair before straightening back out and closing his eyes. Somehow, sleep came easier to him than it had in a long time, and for once, he dreamed of happier things…


	8. Memory

Category: Friendship Fluff/ Mild Romantic Fluff

Characters: Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, and Winry Rockbell

Edward swung the door open with a small sigh, a few iron nails clenched between his teeth and a hammer tucked under his arm. _Yeesh… That took way too long,_ he thought grumpily as he walked into the house and set the hammer down on the wooden table, then reached up to rub the sore muscles of his neck. Through the window, golden light spilled in, washing the entire kitchen with its brilliant hue as the sun slowly sunk below the horizon of fields and forests and farmsteads. Edward slid his hands in his pockets, finding that the house was unusually quiet; as he opened his mouth to call Winry's name, joyous laughter echoed through the house, bouncing around the walls and seemingly coming from the direction of her bedroom. A golden eyebrow raised, he walked down the hall to find her door slightly ajar, and he pushed it lightly to peer inside.

“I remember that!” Winry was giggling with her back to him, sitting on her bedroom floor and apparently pointing at something in her lap. Alphonse was leaned up against her bed with the puppies gathered in his lap, smiling brightly as he snickered to himself. Pinako was sitting in the chair from Winry's work desk, chortling along with them. Edward was thoroughly confused, so he pushed the door open all the way and entered the room.

“What's so funny?” The three turned to look at him as he entered the room, Winry in particular looking positively radiant with happiness. As he approached, she suddenly jumped up and ran over to him, shoving something in his face. It was so close for a moment that he had absolutely no idea what it was, so he reached up to take it from her, blushing lightly when his rough hands fell over her soft, smooth ones. Hastily, he grabbed the mystery item and held it at an angle he could appreciate it. “Oh. It's a photo album,” he realized.

“Mhmm! They're all photos from when we were kids!” A small smile formed on his face from the nostalgia, and he walked over to sit beside Alphonse as he perused the contents of the various pages. There was a photo from a day they helped Pinako make an apple pie, and he and Alphonse had gotten in a fight where they threw flour at one another and had made a mess of the house. There was another where Edward had dressed up as a ghost to scare Winry, but instead it just made her laugh hysterically, which made him pretty mad. There was yet another photograph from when they had visited a nearby lake to go swimming.

“Huh? I don't remember this one!” he frowned when ha came across a particular photograph. It featured Winry with a white pillowcase tied around her head, while Edward stood next to her looking extremely irritated. Alphonse was standing on a stump reading from an upside-down book and wearing a top hat. The other residents of the house gathered around him to peer at the photo in question, and Winry lit up with a radiant smile.

“Oh! That's the day we got married!”

“Do _what?”_ Edward shrieked, his voice several octaves higher than normal as he snapped the photograph album shut and whipped around to glare at her in incredulity. Her wide blue eyes gazed at him in confusion.

“Don't you remember, Ed? It went like this…”

_-In the Past-_

Little Edward was squatted down in the yard with a stick in his hand, his golden eyes wide with curiosity as he poked at a slow-moving beetle crawling across the lush green grass. He pouted when it abruptly fluttered its wings and flew off with a buzz, disturbed by the sound of elated laughter and the feverish stomping of footsteps. He stood up, dropping his stick, as Winry and Alphonse came careening around the corner of the house giggling giddily.

“What's all this about?” he blinked.

“Alphonse and I have a great game we can play!” Winry giggled as she stopped in front of him. He blinked in slight confusion as she turned to his brother, who was holding various items in his little arms. Winry grabbed one of them and whirled around with a flourish. “Ta-daaaaaa~” she sang as she pulled a single white pillowcase around her head, draping it over her blonde hair and holding it there while she looked at him expectantly.

“I don't get it.”

“I’m a _bride,_ you idiot!” she shrieked at him, her face reddening, and he cried out as she socked him in the head with her fist. He nursed his head tenderly, glaring at her with his cheeks puffed out defiantly.

“You're a mean bride! Who would wanna marry _you?”_ he snapped at her, and they dissolved to an ugly squabble, trading various insults until Alphonse laughed nervously and physically inserted himself between them.

“Guys, guys, come on! Let's just play the game!” he smiled widely, and the two children glared at one another before turning their backs on each other with haughty huffs. “Now, Edward, you’re gonna be the groom!”

“Do _what_?” he shrieked. Winry giggled and spun around with her makeshift veil while Alphonse scampered behind him and clambered onto a nearby stump and plopped a tall top hat onto his head. It was much too big for him, so he had to hold it up with one hand while he balanced the book on his knee. He cleared his throat dramatically before opening up a book with a sophisticated expression, but Edward thought he just looked dumb because the book was upside-down. As he went to complain about the stupidity of the game, his words were whisked out of his mouth as Winry grabbed him by the air with a girlish giggle and dragged him over to the stump. He slouched in front of his brother, who was blathering some nonsense about marriage rights, while Winry was standing straight up with gleaming eyes like she actually _was_ getting married. “This is so dumb,” he hissed to her under his breath.

“Shut up and pretty to be happy!” she hissed back at him, and the glare she shot him scared his spine as stiff as a board. _This sucks!_

“Do you, Winry Rockbell, take Edward Elric to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Alphonse announced suddenly.

“I do!” Winry beamed brightly.

“Do you, Edward Elric, take Winry Rockbell to be your lawfully wedded wife?” his brother asked solemnly, turning on him next. Winry also turned to face him, her blue eyes sparkling with pure bliss and her cheeks slightly pink as she stared at him hopefully.

“Nah,” he answered without missing a beat, then screamed as Winry snarled and stomped on his foot with all the might her little body possessed. “Yes! Yes! I mean yes, I do! Nehhhhh!” he screeched as he hopped on one foot, cradling the other which undoubtedly contained broken toes. Winry beamed happily and whirled back around to face Alphonse, smacking Edward in the face with her pillowcase veil. Edward, positively fuming, just half-listened while Alphonse continued reciting some half-baked marriage rights before he went as rigid as a wall of stone.

“You may now kiss the bride!” he declared gleefully and snapped the book shut, looking quite pleased with his performance. Winry looked at him, flushing shyly as she nervously wrung the edge of her veil, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Edward felt a shudder travel up his spine, and his eyebrows twitched incessantly as he tugged at his collar, which was sticking to his neck due to the cold sweat. _How did I get dragged into this?_ He moped as he edged toward the waiting girl. She had her eyes closed and her lips puckered, looking completely innocent. Edward knew that a devil hid behind that angelic face. _I don't wanna kiss Winry!_

“Come on, brother, or she'll hit you with a wrench this time!” Alphonse hissed down at him. Edward exhaled deeply, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her violence, before clenching his fists tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as he jerked forward, lightly kissing Winry on the mouth; then, in the next second, he had jumped back, as red as a tomato, and was wiping off his mouth with disgusted noises.

“Why do you have to act like that, Ed?” Winry pouted as she put her hands on her hips, that light shade of pink still on her chubby cheeks.

“This is the worst game ever!” he shot back. They all glanced up when they heard amused laughter, just in time to see a camera flash. Pinako lowered the camera, chuckling, while Edward went dark red. “Delete that picture! You old haaaaaag!” he wailed and ran for the camera, but the dog thought it was a game and jumped on him, barking happily as he bowled the young child over.

_-In the Present-_

Edward's face had taken on a hue that was some mixture of pink and green after Winry had finished relating the story. “No wonder I don't remember. It's so traumatizing that I _repressed_ it,” he muttered. He cried out as Winry grabbed a nearby wrench and whacked him over the head with it. “Ow! God _damn_ it!”

“Told you she would hit you with a wrench!” Alphonse laughed. Edward just whimpered as he bent over, cradling his bruised head. The rest of the room laughed at his expense, and they were so busy doing that that they didn't notice him blushing darkly.

_Me and Winry married, huh? Alphonse and I are going to be leaving on our trip soon… Maybe… Maybe I should tell her how I feel?_


	9. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I am pleased to announce the addition of two new oneshot collections, Tales from Ouran High (Ouran High School Host Club) and Tales of Resonating Souls (Soul Eater)! Though no stories have been posted yet, if you would like to request stories, please head on over and do so!

Category: Romantic Fluff

Characters: Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell

This prompt was taken from the prompt blog on Tumblr, hellsdemonictrinity! Please go check them out!

Winry groaned loudly as she transitioned from the bliss of sleep into the harshness of the waking world. As she lifted her head, her neck and shoulder muscles aching in protest, a piece of paper that had been stuck to her forehead detached itself and fluttered down onto her work desk. Smacking her lips, she flipped it over to inspect the scribbles and diagrams marked in lead. _Oh, right. This is the schematic for that prosthetic._ Since Edward and Alphonse had left on their journey of self-enlightenment or whatever it was, the auto-mail shop had been conducting business as usual. If anything, its popularity had increased, because everyone wanted auto-mail from the legendary mechanic that had designed the Full-Metal Alchemist’s arm and leg. Winry loved her work, but there was no doubt her increased workload was taking a toll on her. There was no time to sleep. Besides, when there was, she didn’t sleep anyway, because…

“All right, Winry. Up and at ‘em,” she encouraged herself quietly and forced herself to stand up. For a good minute, she felt like Granny, her bones creaking and her muscles straining as they adjusted to her actually moving. “Ugh,” she grunted as there came a sharp cracking and flare of pain in her lower back, and she grimaced as she tenderly rubbed the sore area. “I gotta stop falling asleep at my desk.” She half-limped, half-dragged herself across the room to pull the curtains from the window, spilling warm daylight across her work room. As sleep-deprived as she was, her internal body clock had still awoken her at a decent hour, probably no later than nine in the morning. Her blue eyes drank in the scenic countryside with a small smile, tracing the green fields and emerald forests and blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. When her eyes fell upon the dusty dirt road, her mouth twitched; she did this nearly every morning. It made her so sad, not seeing Edward traipsing up the path, his golden hair swirling in the soft breeze. She had seen it so often in her dreams, she expected it to be reality now. She hurriedly closed the curtains and headed toward the door.

 _He’s doing what he thinks is important. I can’t be selfish._ Before he had left, they had confessed their feelings to each other, in their own strange way. It had been hard for her after that, to watch him get on that train and leave. She had wanted to scream, scream with everything she had and beg him to stay. She had wanted to do that every time she had been forced to say good-bye, but strangely, even though he no longer faced any danger, that time had been the worst. Winry would never admit that to him, though. She didn’t want to get in the way of the things he wanted to do, or what he thought was important. She knew he would come back. He always came back to her.

“Winry? Is that you?” her grandmother called from further in the house as Winry tromped lazily down the stairs. Her body was still stiff and sore, but was beginning to loosen up from all her activity.

“Yes, Granny, it’s me. I just woke up.” The old woman was standing over a bubbling pot on the stove when Winry walked into the kitchen. Winry patted the dog’s head as it ran over to her, demanding attention, and smiled sleepily at her grandmother. “I may have stayed up a little too late trying to design that new order,” she admitted as she sat down at the kitchen table while her grandmother spooned a helping of what she had determined to be porridge into a bowl and sat it down in front of her. She didn’t want to admit to her the other reason why she wasn’t sleeping.

“Tsk,” he grandmother tutted as she lit her pipe and looked at her critically. “Winry, I know you can handle yourself, but you’ve been getting less and less sleep lately. It’s not good for your health. It’ll start taking a toll on you sooner or later,” she warned with narrowed eyebrows. Winry giggled, flattered that her grandmother was worried but wanting to be more or less unconcerned, as she blew on the steaming-hot breakfast soup.

“I’ll be fine, Granny!” she reassured her and began hurriedly eating her breakfast. She had things to do, after all. She had to get her mind off of him. Granny only exhaled deeply in defeat as Winry scarfed down her breakfast, dropped the empty bowl in the sink, and darted up the stairs to get herself dressed. “I have to go into town to buy a few parts! I’ll be back in a few hours,” she called cheerfully down while wiggling herself into a sundress. As she came stomping back down the stairs, slinging a purse over her arm, she gave her one final wink. “I’ll be fine, Granny!”

“I know you will,” she sighed while Winry, not even waiting for an answer, bounded out of the doorway and down the path. The shop that supplied most of the small parts Winry didn’t need to order specially was about a twenty-minute walk, in the heart of Resembool that also housed the train station and local market. Winry inhaled deeply as she walked down the road, savoring the scent of honey and flowers mingling with freshly cut grass and loamy soil in the air. There really was nothing like the country. Though the cities that she had been to were impressive, Winry would never be able to live there; no, she needed peace and quiet and nature. The city much better suited the boys, who were always itching for something to do or something to happen. She cast her blue eyes down to her feet, saddened at that thought.

 _What if they decide the city is better, and want to stay there forever?_ She vigorously shook her head as soon as the thought entered her mind. That wouldn’t happen. Even if they got bored, this was Ed and Al’s home. They would never abandon it. Edward would never abandon her…

 _You say that, but what if you’re overthinking what happened at the train station? It’s not like he said he loved you._ Winry grimaced uncomfortably. Sure, he had said something about spending the rest of their lives together, but that could mean a lot of things. Friends wanted to spend the rest of their lives together too, right?

“Oh, stop it, stupid brain!” she cried and knocked herself on the head, but in her agitated state, hit herself a little too hard. She hunched down in the road as she tenderly cradled her pounding head, tears nearly forming in the corners from her eyes from the frustration and pain. What was wrong with her? She never thought too deeply about these things; she had always contented herself with the fact that Edward and Alphonse would come back, and more recently, that Edward had feelings for her. Why was she thinking about it so much? “Ugh, maybe I do need more sleep,” she muttered as she straightened back up and continued walking. Now that she thought about it, her limbs were dragging along, and her eyes were kind of droopy. Her mind was a little unfocused, too, shifting from one thought to the next in a haze. She slapped herself on the cheeks a few times, leaving them stinging and pink. “I am _not_ sleepy! I can handle this!” Besides, if she slept, then…

_He always comes back._

Despite her best efforts, as she drew closer to the central part of Resembool, her condition rapidly deteriorated. By the time she arrived at the parts shop she was slouched over and barely able to keep her eyes open. Whatever burst of energy she had received that morning was all but spent. As the shopkeeper greeted her cheerfully, all she could managed was a sleepy grunt, and she shuffled into the aisles while wracking her brain for what she had come for in the first place. “Lemme see… Three of these… Two of these doohickeys… One of this thing…” she muttered as she plucked items off the shelves.

“Oof, Winry, you don’t look so good. Have you been getting enough sleep?” the storekeeper frowned at her when she approached the counter and slung the little nuts and bolts down.

“Of course I have! What is it with everyone and sleep?” she screeched and slammed her fist on the counter, making the parts jump and skitter about. The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows at her, but thought better of continuing the conversation with the irritated girl and focused instead on calculating the total price of the items. Winry ground her teeth as her eyes began to droop again. _I am not tired. I can handle this,_ she repeated silently. When the man told her the price, she fished out the bills and handed them over, and her mood soured even more when he told her she had miscounted. _It’s not because I’m sleepy! Everyone miscounts sometimes!_ She reassured herself as she paid the remaining balance and grabbed her bag of parts to stomp out of the door. She moved a little too quickly, however, and her head began to swim. She collapsed against the frame of the door, her chest heaving as she suddenly became light-headed and short of breath. “I’m… not tired…”

 _I have to keep working hard. Ed and Al are always working so hard; I have to keep up._ She had never thought that before. What was happening to her head? What did her auto-mail business have to do with those two? Stubbornly, she pushed forward and stumbled out into the street. She was fine. She was always fine. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Was it racing? Why? Everything was blurry. The shops and people and streets melted into a confusing abstract painting. Dumbly, she stood out in the middle of the street trying to collect herself, and was unaware of the honking of a car horn and the screeching of tires until the car was practically on top of her.

“ _Winry!” Huh?_ She knew that voice.

“Ed?” she whispered, then let out an _oof_ when the wind was knocked out of her. Her head smacked backwards against the dirt ground as she was forcefully tackled, and she wearily lifted her head just in time to see the car roll on by, the driver cursing at her out the window. _What a jerk,_ she thought, her mind still in a daze and unable to compute that she had been at fault for standing in the middle of the street. She tried to sit up, but found she could not from a heavy weight. Her blurry vision focused for a moment to reveal golden hair and eyes. “Edward?” she mumbled in confusion, then screamed as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her vigorously.

“You idiot! What the hell were you doing, standing out in the middle of the street like that? Jeez, Winry!” he scolded her angrily before letting her go. As her eyes rolled around in her head, he sat up, crossing his arms as he straddled her on the edge of the street. “If I hadn’t been here, you’d have been a goner for sure! Jeez, I can’t leave you alone, can I?”

In her exhausted delirium, Winry didn’t care that he had yelled at her and called her an idiot. She just cared that he was home.

“Ed!” she gasped and threw herself at him to wrap him in a tight hug, the tears flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. He made a confused sputtering noise, both embarrassed and probably shocked she hadn’t returned fire, then pursed his lips and awkwardly hugged her back. Winry had told herself that she didn’t want to admit it, but in her emotional and sleep-deprived state, she righteously didn’t care. “I missed you,” she whispered and buried her face into his golden hair. Was it always that soft? It smelled nice, too.

“You’re acting weird,” he mumbled, and despite her attempts to keep latched onto him, he pulled back to peer into her face. “Winry, have you been pulling all-nighters again?” he asked accusingly. She nodded miserably. There was no point in lying to him. “Winry…”

“I have dreams, too,” she sniffed. She never wanted to admit her weakness, so why was it so easy to be weak in front of him? “Nightmares, where you never come back.” A complicated expression formed on his face, halfway between happy and concerned, and she just miserably slouched there with tears running down her face. _There. I said it. Now say something, you bastard._ His gaze flickered from her eyes to the side of her head, and he gently lifted a hand to press it into her hair.

“You’re bleeding,” he sighed. “Winry, what am I going to do with you?” Winry’s eyes widened slightly, and sure enough, she could feel thick blood caking her hair and dribbling down the side of her head. Edward smiled softly and grabbed his suitcase, flinging it open to rummage through the contents. “You’re lucky I was here,” he repeated as he procured a roll of bandages. Winry just sat there mutely as he wound them around her head, her cheeks turning pinker and pinker every time he had to lean close to her to reach. Was he going to say something? How could he act so natural about it? With a small sigh, he dropped the bandages back into his suitcase and closed it, then turned around and held his arms out as an indication for her to climb onto his back. “Come on.”

“Why?” she asked him, but climbed onto his back anyway. He stood up easily, even carrying the suitcase while holding her with one arm. She wound her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. It amazed her how broad his back and shoulders were now. He used to be so small and scrawny. _He’s a man now…_

“You always take such good care of me. It’s time I returned the favor,” he answered simply as he began walking past the street. Winry’s vision had stopped swimming, at least for that moment, and she could see all the concerned passersby staring at her. The fog was beginning to fade from her mind, too. _I… Was in a really dangerous situation._ “You said you have nightmares?” he asked her suddenly. She flushed, hiding her face into his golden locks as she uttered a shy, “Mm-hmm.” They terrified her. She would stand there in the dark, at the end of the road, screaming into the void and crying and begging for him to come back, night after night. He never did, even though she told herself he always came back… She tightened her grip around him.

“Is this a dream, Edward?” Had she fallen asleep after all, and this was just the new addition to her tortuous subconscious? He laughed dryly. Her head bobbed up and down as his shoulders shook lightly.

“No, Winry, I’m really home. Just for a visit, though. My leg needs maintenance.” Of course. He wouldn’t stay forever. He never did, but he always came back. He always came back…

“What if I told you that I don’t want you to leave again?” She expected him to tense up, but he kept on walking smoothly down the road, staring straight ahead. He was always like that; charging ahead without faltering, leaving her to only watch his retreating back. She was tired of looking at his back. She lifted her arm to grab his face and turn it towards her. “Ed.”

“You’re really demanding when you’re tired,” he smirked at her, and then his face was close, really close. He pressed her forehead against hers, his golden eyes staring into her blue ones, both swimming with emotion. “What if I told you I don’t want to leave either?” he murmured softly. Her heart skipped a beat and her reddened face darkened. He had never looked at her like that before, and frankly, she didn’t know what to do about it.

“Then don’t go.”

“I have to, Winry.”

“Why?” she snapped, puffing out her cheeks defiantly. He laughed again, but there was a hint of sadness in those chuckles. He smiled sadly at her.

“I just have things to take care of. There’s a lot more I have to do and see.” She wanted to be selfish, to tell him “no” and that be the end of it, but even in her tired state she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. He had turned away from her again, staring straight at the path ahead like he always did. “Winry… I don’t want to leave, but it makes it easier knowing that you’re here waiting for me,” he sighed gently. She bit down on her lip. Why did he have to go and say something like that, the smooth bastard? When did he even _get_ so smooth?

“I know,” she grumbled and once again wrapped her arms tighter around him. She knew it wouldn’t do anything. She knew that sooner or later, she would have to let go; still, in that moment, she wanted to hold him as tightly as she could. “I’ll always wait for you, Ed, even if it hurts…” She would always wait, because he always came back. He didn’t look at her, but gently bonked her in the side of her head with his.

“Take a nap.”

“Will you be there when I wake up?” She knew he had to leave, but that selfish part of her wanted him to stay as long as possible. This time, he glanced out of the corners of his eyes at her and smiled.

“Of course I will. I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.” No, no he wouldn’t… Because he always wanted her to know that he would come back. Winry nestled her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. It was quite nice, now that she thought about it.

“You’d better not,” she whispered as she allowed the sleep to finally claim her, because she knew she wouldn’t have nightmares anymore.


	10. Poetic

Category: General Fluff, Hurt and Comfort

Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Requested By: Anonymous User

Edward turned his head as moonlight streamed in through the hotel room window, spilling over the wooden floor and matching furniture like the snows of winter spurred by the wind, bathing everything in its soft white brilliance. His metal arm shone brightly as the light caught its polished edges, then flowed across Winry’s sunshiney blonde hair that was currently thrown across his shoulder and over his back from where her face was nestled into his neck. Edward would never tell her out loud, but he thought it looked kind of beautiful, turning silver from the intensity of the moon’s glow. Then the tears that were still fresh on her flushed cheeks blazed into light, too, and painfully reminded Edward of why she was curled up on his lap in the first place. They were never too close like that, with her being so brutish, but for the first time Edward had really seen her as a fragile girl; with her being reduced to miserable tears in the wake of Lt. Colonel’s- well, Brigadier General, now- death, Edward had put awkwardness and petty comments aside to embrace the crying girl, and they had ended up like this. Winry had cried herself to sleep, slumped against his right side with her arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. He tried to keep his movements minimal, not wishing to awaken her since she had just fallen into slumber, but dammit, his leg was falling asleep.

Decided after a few more minutes that it was high time he went to sleep himself, he very slowly and carefully pulled Winry’s arms from his neck to gently rest them at her sides; he then gripped her softly by the shoulders, pausing to grope across the couch and retrieve a throw pillow, to lay her down on the couch. He froze as she murmured something incomprehensible and shifted. When she did not awaken, he released the breath he had been holding and pulled himself up over the back of the couch, allowing her legs to fall freely against the fabric. However, in his attempt to be quiet and considerate he chose a pretty stupid means of retracting himself, because he lost his balance and flopped over the back of the couch, landing in a crumpled heap on the hard floor. He swallowed the scream that threatened to spill from his mouth to instead release a high-pitched whine, sitting up slowly and rubbing the already sizeable lump on his head. He then fearfully peered over the back of the couch to see Winry still completely asleep, having not even tossed or turned at his disgraceful fall. _It’s a good thing that she’s a hard sleeper,_ he thought with a small sigh as he stood up. He walked to the bedroom to pull the comforter off the bed and drag it across the room to drape it over the sleeping girl, making sure that she was covered well before his shoulders sagged in exhaustion from the whole ordeal. _Comforting girls is too much work,_ he thought as he wryly rubbed the back of his neck and smiled down at her.

“’Night, Winry,” he murmured before hastily retreating from the room lest all his efforts go to waste. When he shut the door quietly behind him and arrived in the safety of the hallway, he let out a loud sigh and flopped against the wooden door. He glanced down the hall at the door to his own room, where Alphonse was probably huddled on the floor moping too. Edward’s mouth twitched; though he could probably use the presence of his brother, he wasn’t in the mood to have a pity-party. _I wanna be alone,_ he thought and slipped his hands into his coat pockets as he turned on his heel and marched down the hallway. His feet carried him down to the lobby and out of the hotel into the night; the air had cooled with the withdrawal of the sun, but not enough for Edward to shiver or draw his coat tighter around himself. He glanced up at the night sky, hoping to see the stars, but was disappointed to find that the grey clouds eclipsed most of them. Even the light of the moon had disappeared, absorbed by the thick layer of clouds and casting a dismal shadow upon the world. “How poetic,” he mumbled as he dropped his gaze down to the equally dull concrete. He scuffed at it with the toe of his boot, not quite sure where he wanted to go now that he was outside. With nothing else to do, he just began walking, because his feet would carry him _somewhere_ at least.

Edward’s gaze remained downcast as he wandered the empty, quiet streets of Central. He hadn’t wanted to mope, but in such a depressing atmosphere, it was a little hard not to. After all, Hughes had more or less died because of his and Alphonse’s meddling in the mysterious Homunculus affair. He gritted his teeth angrily and balled up his fists in his pockets. It wasn’t _fair._ Why did a great man like him have to die for their sake? And why didn’t Edward appreciate him more? He had always brushed him off as a ninny who talked too much about his wife and daughter, but he was a good man who always lent Edward and Alphonse a helping hand. He always came to see Edward in the hospital, and he had opened his home up to Winry. Edward never thanked him for all that; he had only stubbornly snapped and acted like a tough guy. He began to quiver as he grew angrier and angrier at himself, until he felt something went roll down his cheeks. He lifted his hand and the fingertips of his glove came away dampened by tears. With an angry sniff, he wiped furiously at his eyes in an effort to get them to stop. Tears never did any good. Edward hated crying, because it was always just a pitiful reminder of how weak he really was. With an angry shout, he took off running down the street; he could concentrate more energy into that, and he wouldn’t have to think or cry anymore.

When the fog finally lifted on his mind and he actually paid attention to where he was going, Edward found that he had arrived at a metal gate. Beyond it lie rows and rows of pristine white headstones. In some sickening twist of irony, he had run to the military cemetery. He gripped the iron handle of the gate, making it tremble slightly from the quiver of his hand; he ought to go in, because he had subconsciously come here, but he was afraid, afraid to confront the reality of what his actions had caused. _You coward. Go in there and say something,_ he told himself angrily, and that burst of wrath made him wrench open the metal gate and go stomping inside. As he strolled through the rows, reading the hundreds of names, his momentary courage rapidly waned until he was just about ready to whirl on his heel and flee; however, just then he caught a flash of color in the muted landscape of the night, and wandered over to a recently tended headstone. Inscribed into the stone was the name of the man whom he was grieving, the man whom he had let down.

Overcome by emotion, Edward fell to his knees in front of the stone. The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think of them.

“Mr. Hughes, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I should have been more careful, I should’ve-“ He cut himself off as those frustrating tears went spilling from his eyes again, and he nearly bit his tongue as he snapped his mouth shut and began scrubbing at his face again. _Stop crying, stop **cryin** g, you useless- _

“FullMetal?”

Edward whipped around with a gasp at the sudden address, especially because it was someone he didn’t expect; Roy Mustang was standing a few feet away, still dressed in his uniform. He had obviously just come from the office. Sniffing and turning his face away so that he could not see the flush that had appeared in his cheeks from his stupid crying spell, he stood up and gave him a respectful dip of his head.

“Hello, Colonel,” he muttered. Edward’s anger at himself was rapidly beginning to become displaced; the colonel had lied to him about Hughes’ death. He knew he was going to find out eventually, so why would he not tell him? That anger rapidly became flush with misery. Hughes was the colonel’s best friend, despite how they acted toward one another; how would he react when he found out that his death was all Edward’s fault? He would be furious, for sure, he would never forgive Edward for that, and that hate was no less than he deserved, no less. Trapped in the maelstrom of those back-and-forth emotions, his fists balled up at his sides and his head hung low so he could not see his horrified expression and quivering lip, Edward just stood rigid in front of the headstone, frozen at the spot. It was just too much to take, all at once; he had let his wall of fortitude crumble and though he was frantically trying to reassemble it and resume his optimistic, unbothered self, he just _couldn’t_. He tried to speak, to not make the colonel suspicious, but the words formed an uncomfortable lump in his throat- and God _damn_ it, the tears had started again. He watched in frustration as they splashed down onto the toes of his shoes, which then blurred at the onset of more of the salty water flooding his eyes. He hated himself so much right now, and worse, the colonel probably though he was such a pathetic mess-

“Edward, you don’t have to hold it in,” the colonel sighed, and Edward stiffened as the man placed a hand on top of his bowed head. The colonel never called him by his first name, _ever_. Edward was shell-shocked as he even went as far as to gently ruffle his hair, and he looked up in shock, too bewildered to care about the tears on his cheeks. He was even more confused when he saw the colonel wearing an actual _expression_ , a sad smile with a warmness in his eyes that Edward had never seen before. It was more of an expression that Lieutenant Hawkeye would wear, and for a second he wondered if he was hallucinating and it was her but he was just seeing the colonel. “I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth.” No, that was the colonel’s voice, and more, he was apologizing? Edward’s roiling emotions couldn’t find a hold in the sheer amount of amazement and confusion he was feeling, and he just stared dumbly up at him. The colonel exhaled deeply and retracted his hand, sliding them both in his pockets as he glanced down at the gravestone. “Hughes would kick my ass for lying to you and treating you like a kid.”

Edward dropped his gaze back to his feet guiltily. _He was trying to protect me from it._ Edward didn’t really like being treated like a kid, but he could appreciate the colonel’s concern, especially for something like this. A confession danced on the edge of his tongue, but he drew it back. First, he was scared of how the colonel would react, but even more so he was scared of involving him in the matter of the Homunculi. One person had already ended up dead. He didn’t want to add more to the body count because he had a loose tongue. Feeling trapped, Edward sunk into himself. _I don’t know what to do…_ The colonel must have mistaken it for more depression, because he did something Edward never expected.

Edward gasped as he wrapped an arm around his head and with one smooth movement pulled him into what was very obviously a light hug. His nose bumped against the colonel’s chest, and as he reeled in the confusing embrace, he heard him sigh again. “It’s okay to cry, y’know. It doesn’t make you any less of a man.” At the gentle reassurance coming from someone he never expected, Edward felt his bottom lip wobble as the tears pounded on the door he had locked, demanding to be released; this time, he opened the door willingly, and he buried his face into the blue fabric of the military uniform, smudging it with the tears that were now spilling freely. With a shaky hand he reached up to the colonel’s back to grip his jacket tightly, and though he tried to keep his sniffles quiet they came out a lot louder than he meant. Still, the colonel didn’t ridicule him for it.

“It’s my fault,” Edward whispered quietly. He hadn’t meant to say anything, but he felt like he owed it to the colonel, no matter what became of it. Edward’s head shifted as the colonel inhaled deeply, and Edward’s fingers curled tighter into the fabric as he feared an oncoming confrontation.

“Hughes wouldn’t blame you for his death, so neither will I, FullMetal. He died doing what he believed in, and I won’t ask about your involvement in it, because I’m already aware that you can’t tell me anyway,” the colonel answered mutely, and Edward glanced up at him in shock. _Did he talk to Major Armstrong?_ He wasn’t looking up at him, but up at the sky now. Edward followed his dark eyes to find that the clouds were breaking apart, allowing the light of the moon and stars to gradually peek through. “You just keep moving forward. Let me take care of the rest,” he added and looked down at him with a smirk. Edward gave one last sniffle before using his other hand to dry his eyes, for the last time, he told himself, before nodding firmly. It was still a little weird having such a moment with an abrasive, stoic man like the colonel, but Edward _did_ feel comforted. He snickered and pushed his head lightly as he unwrapped his arm from it, and Edward recoiled with a grumpy shout, fixing his mussed-up hair.

“You’re such an ass, Colonel.”

“Watch it. I’m still your superior, even though I’m off the clock,” he warned him, but he still had that small smile on his face. As Edward teased his golden locks into submission, he smiled shyly back at him.

“Thanks… I feel a lot better.” The colonel dipped his head at him, but remained standing there; figuring that he wanted to pay his respects to his fallen friend, Edward stepped aside and moved to start the walk back to the hotel. As he walked past him, the colonel suddenly caught his arm, causing him to look back at the man who was staring rigidly at the gravestone, silhouetted by the brightening light of the moon.

“FullMetal… Do me a favor and check in every once in a while. Hawkeye won’t admit it, but she gets concerned about you.” Edward’s mouth curled into a wry smile, knowing that it was really just that the colonel didn’t want to admit he got concerned, but he nodded in affirmation.

“Can do. See you later, Colonel.” The man released his grip and his arm dropped to his side, and Edward left him there to pass words unspoken on to the dead man. As the gate flopped shut with a resounding _clang!_ , Edward glanced up at the now-clear sky. _Poetic. I feel like I’m in some kind of cheesy drama,_ he thought with a disdained snort, finding great irony in the way the sky was mirroring his mood and situation. Still, with the light pouring down and the clear view of the stars, he felt a little better.

 _Can you hear me, Mr. Hughes? I promise, I’m gonna keep moving forward, and I’ll find out what these Homunculi are up to. I won’t let your death be a waste._ After the silent vow, he began the walk back to the hotel, trotting down the sidewalk. He couldn’t move forward on no sleep, after all.

 


End file.
